Third Wheel
by LightningStruckBlackDog
Summary: I've changed. But to who I've become, I don't know. But I want to, and I want to change back, but the new me wont budge, and its adamancy overcomes my want. She's always been the third wheel, and sadly it's not going to change. LillyOliverMiley.Oneshot


"I need some fresh air. I'll be out.", I say, excusing myself.

I do not wait for their replies; I just push back my chair and walk out of the restaurant.

I rub my temples, and breathe in and out; a poor attempt at calming myself.

I am _sick _of them. And lately, I cannot stand being in their company longer than I have to.

I won't say they haven't noticed, because I wouldn't want to be branded a liar.

They've noticed. And they've questioned. But I've never answered.

I feel there no use of answering, because the damage has already been done, the crime, already been committed.

Of course, the guilty party don't even know what they're guilty off, and frankly, they don't care.

_Screw them, _I curse, over and over again.

I want them to be happy, and now they _are._

This is what I want right? I want them to be happy.

But what about me?

What happens to me?

Am I the third wheel? The unwanted third party? The single best friend?

I feel terrible, tagging along with them.

Everywhere.

Everytime.

Just us..

Me, and _them._

Yes, I mostly definitely am a third wheel.

And I feel horrible. I feel lousy. I feel depressed and down all the time.

And I've changed.

I've become more reserved. More quiet. I don't laugh anymore, and I don't talk until I absolutely have to.

I don't eat well; I don't sleep well.

I'm not me anymore.

To who I've become, I don't know.

I want to, and I want to change back, but the new me won't budge, its adamancy overcoming my want.

I've become a total stranger, even to me.

And it's all _their _fault.

It's wrong to blame them, I know, but who else can I blame?

Me?

Do you honestly think I _wanted _this to happen?

Never in a million years would I want something like this to happen.

I love them both, I really do.

But I've drifted away from them, knowing that they're company make me vulnerable.

I hate it.

It's the way they hold hands.

The way they tightly hug.

The way they passionately kiss.

The way they whisper sweet nothings.

And _to each other…_

I hate it all.

Every night I sit on my bed, sub consciously stroking my dog's ears, thinking. Just… thinking.

I don't cry; I'm stronger than that. But I feel sad, and unwanted, and lonely. So lonely.

I feel betrayed, and feel I can trust no more.

She knew.

She knew how much I liked him.

Heck, the entire _school _knew it.

But of course, the entire school had brains. And him, being so oblivious, undoubtedly had none.

That's why he didn't know.

But he could have tried to find out.

I mean, I acted so obvious around him, unable to meet his eyes, whisper when he was around, little little things, that I was sure he would be able to get.

High hopes.

I had high hopes.

But at least she knew. And she tried to help.

But he didn't figure it out.

Over the years it was forgotten about, just faint memories of a high school crush.

_They _started hanging out with each other more often, and they flirted.

I had no problem. After all, it was a high school crush.

I had to kept telling myself that that's what it was… a high school crush.

But I knew that it wasn't a silly crush, or a frivolous infatuation.

It was serious… it was _love._

But it was love of the worst kind; love unreturned.

And it would always remain that way, since now, they had each other.

And I was the third wheel.

For the first time, in so many years, I cry.

The pain has doubled as I grew older.

And we're now 22.

Tears are running down my cheeks, and I can't stop them.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of these thoughts.

_Get a grip, _I scold myself.

I close my eyes, and breathe in and out.

Once assured that I've regained an iota of calmness, I go back in.

They haven't started eating, they've been waiting for me.

A faint smile appears on my lips.

I walk over to our table, and sit down.

"Are you okay?", she asks, concerned.

I nod, my blonde hair coming out of its bun.

"Ha-have you been crying?", he questions.

I shake my head, no.

"I'm fine.", I reply, in a soft, monotonous tone, completely devoid of any emotion.

But no, I'm not fine.

Because I'm the third wheel.

The unwanted third party.

**_i know i havent mentioned any names, but it's pretty obvious who i'm talking about isn't it? and although i HATE Molivers, i couldnt resist doing this. so hope you enjoyed, and remember: Never underestimate the power of 64 pack crayons... with a sharpener of course._**

**_REVIEW!_**

**_Cheers_**

**_me_**


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